


I'd Be Lying if I said

by youmakemesoangry



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mentions of Ray - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmakemesoangry/pseuds/youmakemesoangry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks at Jeremy's face. He sees laugh lines around his mouth. Creases at the corner of his eyes. The face of naïveté, hidden behind the beard that only helps him to looks his age. </p><p>'Cute', Ryan thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: um I hate to ask but I would love it if you could write a sick or injury fic for the Fake AH crew when you're feeling better? I just want to see Ryan freaking out and taking care of someone whose hurt or unwell. Speaking of which, I hope you get well soon. Surgery sucks.

The problem, Ryan thinks later, is that he was off guard. None of this would have happened if he hadn't gotten so damn close, so comfortable with these damn idiots. He can remember his thoughts, what his face looked like when the red dot appeared on Jeremy's chest.

"Ok, assholes. Successful heist through and through." Michael shouts, punching the air as Jeremy throws his rifle over one shoulder with an impressive attempt at a wolf's howl. "Yeah, very exciting. I'm going to get the haul back to the penthouse. Who inflicted the least amount of damage today?"

Gavin raises his hand and gives it a jaunty wave. 

"You're on ammo count, buddy." 

"Awe, Geoff! C'mon!" Geoff was already folding himself into one of their cars they hid for when they lost the cops. He presses his hand against his body armor, reflex from trying to keep his suit flat when getting in and out of vehicles. 

"Tough shit, Gavin. Pull your weight and next time, maybe Ryan will be on ammo count." Ryan snorts and even Jack laughs. Gavin sighs and flips Geoff's car lazily as it speeds down the dirt road. 

Gavin walks to his bike, and Ryan can hear the lilt of his voice when he says something to Michael that gets him to yell. Michael hops on his own bike when Gavin revs his. Gavin goes flying, back wheel fishtailing slightly before the bike takes off. Jack looks like she wants to say something about helmets, but when Michael whips past her, her voice is drowned out by the noise of the bike and by his excited shout. 

When the noise and dust settles, Ryan is still watching the boys from behind the mask he still has on. He doesn't wear it around them as much these days, but he's still fresh from the heist, paranoia thrumming in his veins. He turns around, expecting to see Jeremy in his car ready to speed off with the lads. 

Instead, he sees Jeremy laughing at some comment Jack throws over her shoulder while walking to her car, keys in one hand and a loaded magnum in another. Ryan can't see what Jeremy is doing, as he is half in the trunk of his car, fucking around with something. Ryan takes one more look at the quickly retreating bikes and walks to lean a hip against a taillight. He waves at Jack when he hears the heavy bass of a playlist that will mean she'll probably be driving off the adrenaline. Either that or getting hyped up to have the energy to count and record the cash with Geoff. 

Hey. Being a dangerous and illustrious crew isn't just robbing banks and killing shit. There's y'know. Work involved or whatever. 

He turns his head and takes a deep breath before he reaches up and takes off his mask, feeling awkward keeping it on now.

He sees now, as he leans to look into the trunk, that Jeremy is taking apart his sniper rifle and putting it in its case. He does it so carefully and gently and Ryan is struck, as he is often, at the level of expertise in a person so young. So, seemingly, naïve. Jeremy is humming as he packs away a weapon that killed upwards of thirty people today while standing next to a murderer wanted in five states, one of which is the one they are currently in. 

Ryan really looks at Jeremy, then. He sees the sneakers he wears on heists, the ones with thicker than normal soles that he claims are so he doesn't break his foot when jumping from a sniper's nest but they all know are to add a little height. 

His eyes climb up Jeremy's legs to his thighs, thick and muscular from parkour and running from the cops. The muscular upper body of a boxer, arms showing in a rare fashion due to the plain gray t-shirt Jeremy was wearing. 

Finally, he looks at Jeremy's face. He sees laugh lines around his mouth. Creases at the corner of his eyes. The face of naïveté, hidden behind the beard that only helps him to looks his age. 

‘Cute’, Ryan thinks.

Jeremy clicks his sniper case shut, and steps back to close the trunk. Ryan pushes back from his lean and walks toward the passenger side. Jeremy looks confused, glances slightly behind Ryan at where Ryan's very expensive, not very hidden car is parked. 

"Uh, Ry? You don't feel good or something, buddy?" Jeremy opens the driver's side door, but waits for Ryan's answer. Instead, Ryan opens the passenger door and slides into the leather seat, stretching his legs out and huffing out a soft sigh of relief at being able to relax for a moment. Jeremy slides into his seat after a pause but doesn't start the car. "Um?"

"I don't know about you, J, but I'm starving. How about we get some burgers?" Jeremy stares but after a moment he sticks his key into the ignition and starts the car, the sound of the engine loud enough to rattle Ryan's eardrums for a moment before it settled. 

Satisfied, he throws his mask on the ground at his feet and reaches to turn the radio on. He flips from station to station and if Jeremy had less patience like, let's say, the entire rest of the crew and anyone connected with them, he probably would have slapped Ryan's hand away already. Instead, he just hums to the few seconds of songs he hears. Ryan debates whether or not to change one of Jeremy's set stations to see the slight irritation pull at the corners of his mouth but ultimately thinks better of it. 

He's a prick, but he's not Gavin. 

"You know, for a mercenary, you're not as slick as you think you are." Ryan raises an eyebrow but doesn't look at Jeremy. He does stop playing with the radio, leaving it on some classic rock station. " I knew you were watching me when was putting away my rifle." Ryan sits back against his seat and doesn't know what to say to Jeremy for a moment. Doesn't know how to articulate all the things he was thinking. 

"I was curious." He settles there, a safe version of how he was feeling while looking over Jeremy's young and nubile body. Ryan snorts at himself internally. 

"Well, I'm an open book, Haywood." Somebody drones on the radio about their girlfriend or their car, but the static cuts through the words. 

"What did you do before this?" Ryan sees the way the corner of Jeremy's mouth twitches, a motion that suggests that he was not expecting Ryan to ask that. 

"Um. Well. Professionally or just like. In life?" Jeremy is winding through the streets of Los Santos, barely jerking the car, while looking as though Ryan was interrogating him. 

"Relax, Jeremy. I was just wondering about your civilian ways." Jeremy relaxes, and it makes Ryan relax as well. 

"Not much. Graduated high school, went to college for a few years. Normal shit like that." Ryan makes an impressed noise at that and nods. Not that he didn't think that Jeremy was smart enough to go to college, but most of the people that live the lives they lead don't generally have such opportunities. 

"How did you pick up parkour? Not for nothin', Lil' J, but you don't exactly fit the runner stereotype." The first thought in Ryan's head is Ray, and then Spoole from the Fakehaus crew.

Jeremy laughs and stops at a red light. He rubs the back at his neck and Ryan becomes aware that he's about to hear something somewhere on the embarrassment scale. 

"I was uh." Jeremy clears his throat and drives when the light turns green. "I was a gymnast for a long time." He doesn't look at Ryan. In fact, he purposefully looks away from Ryan and Ryan can see the red moving from his ears to his neck. 

Ryan is quiet for awhile, thinking.

"So, what? You lost one competition too many and decided to become the best sniper in Lost Santos, replacing the previous owner of that title in the deadliest crew this side of the country?"

There is a long pause and Ryan knows he brought up a touchy subject. Shit, no one in a crew doesn't have a shitty backstory. He knows all of the crew's stories. 

Need for power stemming from childhood abuse and neglect. Parents killed in a fire and jumped from foster home to foster home. Raised poor and ostracized by peers. Drug addict parents and a runaway. Born in New Jersey. 

But he doesn't know Jeremy's. 

"Well. My brother got in deep with gambling debts. I was, uh. I was 19 and home for the summer from college when he came home with his arm in a sling. 'A warning', he'd said. They had dislocated his shoulder.” Jeremy sighs and Ryan is sure he's remembering this like it was happening right in front of him.

Jeremy pulls into the burger joint lot and parks but leaves the car running. 

"I was 21 when they broke his leg. I was 22 when they kidnapped him and told my parents if they wanted him back alive, they'd pay off his debts." Ryan waits, unsure of the ending of this story, but knowing that it won't be happy. Supremely unhappy, if the crease between Jeremy's brows and a far away look is to go by. 

"How far in debt was he?" Ryan keeps his voice soft, softer than he has probably ever spoken to any other member of the crew. 

"Forty." Ryan whistles. "Yeah, that's what my parents said. With more crying and yelling, but. Yeah."

Jeremy looks at his lap and picks at his nails for a moment, his face scrunching in what looks like pain. 

"They couldn't pay it, could they?" Ryan is struck with the nearly overpowering want to reach out and comfort Jeremy when he frowns hard and takes a deep breath. Ryan pretends not to see the tear that falls on his jeans or hear him sniff before answering. 

"Not even close. They asked for more time." Jeremy reaches up a hand and squeezes the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turn white. "They got my brother's head on our front porch instead.”

Ryan doesn’t know what to say. They sit in silence for a few minutes; Ryan pretending that Jeremy isn’t shaking slightly, Jeremy pretending that he hadn’t just stunned a mercenary into silence. 

“So I went after them.” Ryan looks at Jeremy in shock, not picturing that from the one crew member he knew to not embrace a short temper. “I took them out one by one until it was just the low-level thugs and the boss left. I ruined his crew and he knew it. And so he started keeping what was left of his crew close to him at all times. It was practically impossible to get to him in close quarters.” Jeremy is still not looking at Ryan, but at least he isn’t crying anymore.

“So you learned how to be a sniper.”

“So I learned how to be a sniper. I learned about bullet drop and how to clean a rifle. I learned about wind speed and I learned that I probably should have paid more attention in math class.” Ryan huffs a laugh, knowing that he’s had to call upon a few things from school he never thought he would have to. 

Jeremy ran a hand through his short hair and sighed.

“One day, I got lucky. He was meeting some dealer or something and I waited and waited and when I took my shot,” Jeremy mimed his head exploding, “boom. What was left of his head fell into his salad and I learned that killing that son of a bitch didn’t bring my brother back.”

Ryan closes his eyes and looks out the passenger side window, knowing the defeat in Jeremy’s voice and knowing that someone so young should never have known that feeling.

“I’m sorry, Jeremy.” Ryan means it and tries to make that as clear as possible through his voice. Jeremy nods and breathes deeply, and so Ryan thinks he gets it. He waits until Jeremy opens his door before he gets out of the car, and he follows Jeremy into the restaurant. 

They order their burgers and sit in silence. Ryan looks around at the other patrons a little suspiciously while Jeremy checks his phone. When Ryan turns and stares out the window at the people walking by, he hears Jeremy shift to put his phone in his back pocket.

“So what about you?” He looks at Jeremy, face blank and waiting patiently. “What did you do before this?” Ryan huffs and turns to look out the window again, itching for a cigarette.

“Yeah, um. I was born. And now I’m here.” Jeremy rolls his eyes and Ryan is slightly pleased that he has brought a little bit of humor back to Jeremy’s face.

“Ryan. Seriously. I told you about being a gymnast and you don’t think I deserve to hear about your inevitably weird past?” Ryan doesn’t comment on the purposeful lack of mention of Jeremy’s brother, but instead shrugs in response.

“I don’t know what to tell you, J. I’m an enigma that is never meant to be known.” Jeremy opens his mouth, seemingly to say something, but their waiter returns with their food and they eat while exchanging details about their parts of the heist.

Ryan listens while picking at his fries at what the crew looks like from Jeremy’s eyes. While Ray was close to them and Ryan would never have trusted anyone more at his back, none of them actually knew much about Ray. Specifically, they never really knew how Ray felt about the heists. 

Jeremy, however, was an open book. Ryan knew that when he talked about how Michael was a reckless asshole and maybe trusted Jeremy a little too much to take out anyone Michael didn’t that he said it with fondness. Jeremy was fond of the crew and Ryan liked to hear about how the heist from a sniper’s eyes. 

“It’s a lot of worrying and not really breathing.” Jeremy pops a fry into his mouth and picks up another one, gesturing while he talks. “I only know what I see, and what I see is generally only what’s outside. Sometimes I get a view through a window.” Ryan thinks about that, thinks about what would it be like to be stuck far enough away from his crew that if they needed him within a minute, he couldn’t get to them. 

He’d worry, too. He’d probably more than worry, but that’s only for him to know.

Jeremy waves for their waiter for a check and as he is writing out the tip, Ryan is struck by how young he is. Not like he was before, but in a sadder way now. He knows now why someone as young as Jeremy would be living the life they do and he wishes that Jeremy never felt that need for vengeance and never had to kill a man.

He wishes that for Jeremy but he can’t bring himself to be upset that he’s here now with the crew.

They walk out the doors and Ryan hears the jingle of Jeremy’s keys, so he looks at Jeremy in time to see the way his lips purse in a tuneless whistle.

‘He’s cute’, Ryan thinks. He’s keeping pace with Jeremy and he feels the fond smile stretch across his face. He notices something one Jeremy’s chest and when he looks down, he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at.

Well. He does. He knows he’s looking at a red laser point. He knows that that generally means a sniper. 

The smile is just falling off his face when he hears the crack of a rifle and Jeremy goes spinning to the ground.

The silence after is deafening and everything around him goes still for a moment before the flight instinct in all the civilians around him kick in.

Jeremy doesn’t move. He doesn’t push up from where he is stomach down on the ground.

Doesn’t make a sound as Ryan finally moves and kneels by his side.

Doesn’t resist when Ryan turns him over and sees the hole that a .50BMG bullet, if his ears are correct, left in Jeremy’s left shoulder.

His hand shakes as he pulls out his phone and calls Geoff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied I said this was only going to be two chapters but it's going to be three now I'm sorry

“Jack, I need you to call Burnie."

“Hold on, Kovic. Geoff, you call him. I’m on the phone with Fakehaus. They’re trying to set out feelers.”

“Christ. Gavin, call Burnie. I’m trying to get a hold of our LSPD rat.”

“Can’t, Geoff. Busy hacking into as many cameras of the area as I can.”

“Fucking hell. You have two hands. Multitask.”

“Really fucking can’t, Geoffrey.”

“Whatever. Where the fuck is Michael?”

“Thanks, Greene. Let me know as soon as you get any thing. He’s getting Ryan and Jeremy, boss.”

“Shit. Right.”

“Breathe, Geoff.”

“I can’t fucking breathe, Jack! Someone shot my sniper in broad daylight and not a goddamn person in this city can tell me who the fuck it was! Jesus. Caleb is calling.”

Geoff walks out of the room and the crew is silent except for Gavin’s furious typing. Jack sighs and stares at her phone.

“We should call Ray.” Gavin doesn’t stop typing as he speaks and doesn’t look up to see Jack’s reaction.

“You know he doesn’t want us to get him involved with this shit anymore.” Gavin sighs in response and looks up from his screen.

“We need him, Jack. If anyone can find someone on the run, it's Ray.” Jack shakes her head.

“Ryan will find them.” Gavin huffs and goes back to the cameras.

“Ryan likes Lil’ J too much. He’s gonna be pissed.” Jack dials a number and heads out of the room.

“Exactly. He works best that way.”

 

————————————————————————————

 

“You look like shit.” Ryan looks up from staring at his clenched fists. Michael isn’t even looking at him, but staring at Caleb’s office door. He doesn’t look any better.

He hears the lilt of Lindsay and Caleb’s voices and wishes he didn’t care so much. He wishes he didn’t have fear gripping his heart and a weight on his chest that’s so heavy, it’s making it hard to breathe. He wishes that he didn’t want to have the whole crew in one room so he can make sure they’re all alive.

He wishes his hands didn’t shake and that they weren’t still covered in blood. 

He wishes a lot of things.

“Do they have a list yet?” His voice is softer than he can ever remember it being. He doesn’t recognize it at first. Michael pulls out his phone and checks for messages.

“Nothing yet. Gav has found the building he was on and is trying to track him camera to camera. The guys good, though. Professional, Geoff thinks.” Ryan’s fists tighten and nods.

“Definitely professional. The trajectory was barely angled. He had to be at least,” he looked up at the ceiling and tried to think, “maybe a thousand yards away? The buildings are too high for it to be a closer one than that.” Michael side eyes him at that. 

“Yeah, man. That’s a little creepy. Gavin found him on an office building roof around two-thirds of a mile away.”

There’s a crash from behind the closed door and Ryan is on his feet so fast that Michael jumps back a little. He tries to push passed Michael and is stopped with a hand to his chest. He looks down at Michael and brings a hand up to wrap it around Michael’s wrist, prepare to pull it away.

“Let me go, Michael.”

“We can’t, Ryan. We’ll be in the way and if Jeremy dies because Caleb fucking trips on us I’m letting Geoff know that it’s your fault his favorite kid is dead.” Michael’s voice sounds light but it shakes and he’s pale and his hand is pressing a little too hard against his chest. 

Michael is scared. He doesn’t want know if Jeremy has bled out in the other room.

Ryan knows the feeling.

He tightens his grip and can feel the bones in Michael’s wrist creak, but Michael’s face never changes. He’d be proud if he wasn’t so focused on pushing Michael out of the way and bursting into the other room.

Lindsay is crouched on the floor, picking up the fallen first aid kit. She looks up when he walks in, but Caleb doesn’t even twitch. 

“Get the fuck out, Ryan.” Caleb’s back is to him and has Jeremy hooked up to an IV. He stares at Jeremy’s still body and can’t breathe for a moment. Ryan takes a step towards them, and Caleb pulls the gun from his holster. “Geoff will actually kill me if I let Jeremy die so get the fuck out of this room before I put a bullet in a painful but nonfatal place.”

Ryan growls before he turns on his heal and walks out, slamming the door behind him. He continues passed Michael and down the hall.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Ryan doesn’t stop. All he can think about is Jeremy’s pale and sweaty face. All he can think about is the blood on his hands doesn’t even compare to the blood that he saw on the table and floor. 

He’s scared, too, he realizes.

“I’m going back to the penthouse and I’m going to find who the fuck did this. Call me if anything changes. At all.” The sound of him slamming Caleb’s front door closed behind him drowns out anything that Michael says in response.

He drives Jeremy’s car back to the penthouse, more careful than he has ever been to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up anyway. Jeremy will be pissed if he gets back and his stupid paint job has been scratched.

‘When,’ he mentally corrects himself. ‘ _When_ Jeremy gets back.’

He drives with his phone in his lap and nearly drives off the road when he gets a text from Michael.

It’s a middle finger emoji. He takes a few deep breaths and sends a knife emoji back.

He gets to the penthouse and has to brace himself before walking through the door. When he does, all heads snap to stare at him. Jack’s phone rings and she quickly answers it while walking out of the room. “Vorbi,” he hears her say as she leaves and is surprised that Geoff has gotten the Romanians involved.

“Ryan? Is he-“

“He’s alive. Caleb kicked me out, so I don’t know anything else. Michael is with him still if you want to call him, Gavin.” Gavin shakes his head and goes back to the computers he’s hiding behind. “Geoff, what can I do?” Geoff stares at him before sighing.

“We don’t have any strong leads yet. A little information here, a little there. Nothing substantial. I can’t send you after someone yet.” He looks just as disappointed as Ryan feels. Gavin makes a noise from the other side of the room and types more furiously.

“I might have something, Geoff.” Ryan strides over to Gavin’s side and leans over his shoulder. He looks over Gavin’s three monitors, tracking the dozen camera feeds he has until he looks at the one that Gavin has enlarged and is enhancing.

It’s the video of Ryan leaning over Jeremy’s body. He watches his own shoulders curve over Jeremy’s body and turn him over. He sees the panic on his own face as he pulls out his phone. Gavin is talking to Geoff but Ryan can’t hear him because he didn’t know. He’s watching his own face from a grainy camera feed at an off angle and he didn’t know. He didn’t know he so blatantly cares for the kid. Not like the way he cares about the rest of the crew. He would never look that panicked if Gavin or Geoff got shot. He’d get them into cover and would call for back up out of pure muscle memory that he has learned from years of being under fire. He recalls doing none of those things. He waited out in the open and called to get Jeremy help. He had forgotten everything the moment he heard the crack of the sniper rifle.

He remembers the way his hands shook when Geoff answered the phone with a lazy “‘llo?” and he remembers the way he could not speak until Geoff said his name.

He is too damn close.

His hand clenches into a fist and he realizes that Gavin and Geoff have stopped talking and are now staring at him. 

“You okay there, big guy?” He grunts at Geoff in affirmation.

“Alright, well. As I was saying. I lost the guy after he ducks through a couple of alleys with no cameras, but then. Here.” Gavin points at a man walking down a street a few blocks from the burger joint. “I didn’t notice him at first, but then I noticed his shoes. They’re the same ones that sniper was wearing. He probably dumped his shitty half balaclava and hoodie in some dumpster, but I’d know those sneakers anywhere.” Geoff stops his pacing and Ryan pulls back from staring at the screen to turn and stare at Gavin. “What? They’re Louboutin. Beautiful and bloody expensive.” Ryan completely backs away from the desk and heads towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Ryan pauses and heads for the ammo room down the hall. He’s grabbing spare pistols and one of Michael’s spare SMGs that he knows are clean. “Ryan.” Ryan lets his shoulders rise theatrically as he takes a deep breath. He drops them the same way when he sighs out. He doesn’t look at Geoff.

“I’m going to find the son of a bitch.” He’s checking and refilling half empty ammo boxes.

“Oh yeah? Would you like to share with the class as to _how_ you plan on doing that?” Ryan grabs one of the duffels in the corner and throws the ammo and spares in.

“Nah.” Ryan tucks two pistols into the back of his pants and pushes passed Geoff. He’s stopped by a firm hand on his arm and let’s Geoff hold him back for a moment.

“Don’t get stupid, Haywood. I never thought I would have to have this conversation with you of all members of this crew, but. I mean, shit, Ryan. Did you have to start _liking_ the kid?” Ryan sighs and drops his head a little, itching for his mask. “Just. Be careful. Don’t get stupid. You can’t kill the guy if he gets you first.” He gently shrugs off Geoff’s hold and makes his way out of the penthouse.

“Maim the bastard, Ryan!” His lips twitch and he closes the door behind him to Geoff scolding Gavin.

When he makes it to the car, he’s already filed away what he knows.

Ex-military. Russian. Immigrant who has been in the country for over five years. Six feet tall with dark hair. Slight limp on his left side. Probably has a few prison tattoos to match Ryan’s.

Russian.

He gets in Jeremy’s car and reaches over towards the passenger footwell and grabs his mask. He puts it on and sighs at the slight decrease in anxiety. 

Fucking Russians.


End file.
